


Hunky Dory

by Miri Cleo (miri_cleo)



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Biting, Cunnilingus, F/F, Femslash, Fingerfucking, Flashbacks, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Public Sex, Strap-Ons, Table Sex, Vaginal Fingering, big dick energy, flirting while shoplifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 11:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18180257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/pseuds/Miri%20Cleo
Summary: Thirteen months later and Debbie was still there. She was planning something, of course, because that's what she did. But Lou continued on as if this was the new normal. And she tried not to question how long that normal would last.





	Hunky Dory

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Charlie and twtd for beta work, and thanks to Charlie and futureimperfect for making me finally watch the movie.

Debbie's hair was tousled from sleep as she walked down from the bedroom wearing nothing but one of Lou's vintage, oversized sweatshirts, sleeves covering half her hands. She cocked her head, blinking as she leaned against the tall table Lou used as a kitchen island. Lou turned from the stove to pour her a cup of coffee. 

"Since when do you cook eggs?" Debbie asked as she poured a mini bottle of bourbon--Lou had no idea where the fuck that had come from--into the cup.

She had turned back to the skillet but looked over her shoulder, squinting. "Since when don't I?"

But that was Debbie--never bothering to remember the times Lou had brought her breakfast in bed when she could remember more important things like the precise locations of the security cameras in Tiffany's. Lou sprinkled fresh chives into the pan along with some cheese and crumbled bacon. She folded the omelette and put it on a plate before sliding the plate in front of Debbie and turning back to the counter where two unbroken eggs sat. 

"I don't want eggs."

"What do you want?" Lou cracked both eggs into a bowl and started whisking them with a fork. "Pancakes?" She added salt and pepper. "Toast? It's a good omelette. You'll like it."

"I don't want eggs."

Lou heard the stool scrape and a moment later felt Debbie wrapping her arms around her waist. Debbie pushed Lou's hair away with her nose and started kissing her neck as Lou poured the eggs into the hot pan. She leaned her head to the side. "Well, if you want waffles, too bad because I haven't got a waffle maker."

"I don't want waffles," Debbie murmured as she turned Lou in her arms. 

"The eggs will burn." Lou's lips brushed Debbie's, and Lou was already fumbling behind her for the burner's knob. 

"So." Debbie kissed her hard. "Let them burn."

*****

It took months for Lou to make it to California and back. That was because she took her time stopping at every quirky and kitsch roadside attraction--the Oregon Vortex, Igloo City, World's Largest Ball of Twine, among others. They were all cons but the harmless kind. She let herself watch the sunrise in the desert and rain storms in the mountains, and she even sat in on a drum circle. None of it was life changing, and she hadn't been looking for enlightenment. Lou did it because she could.

And when she returned, covered in road dust and tired because it was the middle of the fucking night, she hadn't expected Debbie to be there at all. But there Debbie had been, nonchalantly flipping through a Vogue. She had, no doubt, been doing something else, but Lou's key in the door or maybe her boots on the stairs--or maybe Debbie had a tracker on her back for fuck all Lou knew--had tipped her off. God forbid she let anyone know what she had really been doing, even if it was just sleeping. 

"I thought we talked about how watering down well vodka for the rest of your life was a waste."

Lou shook her head as she tossed her pack into a chair. "Good to see you too,honey."

"So why didn't you sell the bar?"

"Not selling the bar." Lou flopped into a chair and draped one of her legs over the arm. She stretched back, tilting her head side to side to crack her neck, making Debbie squirm with mostly feigned disgust. "You're still here."

"Yeah…" Debbie drew out the word as she tossed the magazine onto the sofa and got up. "That's the thing about parole." She sauntered over to push Lou's leg off of the arm of the chair, and then she straddled her. "Gotta have a permanent address."

"Oh yeah?" She looked up into Debbie's brown eyes as she settled underneath her. 

"Did you miss me, baby?"

Did Debbie miss her? Maybe abstractly. Lou thought she'd been over agonizing over that, but just one look into those eyes undid all the moving on Lou had done in the past five years. She sighed and reached up to run her fingers through Debbie's hair. 

"Of course I did."

Thirteen months later and Debbie was still there. She was planning something, of course, because that's what she did. But Lou continued on as if this was the new normal. And she tried not to question how long that normal would last. And yet there she was, pushing a cart through the grocery store with Debbie at her side. 

"I'm thinking pasta. Everyone likes pasta."

"Yeah, okay." Debbie ran her fingers over the rows of cans. 

"With a nice red sauce, you know...crushed tomatoes, some basil, some peppers."

"Uh huh. Peppers."

Lou sighed and stopped the cart. She knew that distracted tone, that look in Debbie's eyes. She held out her hand, crooking her fingers back. "Give it here."

"What?"

"Debbie." Lou crooked her fingers again.

Debbie looked around, doing her best innocent expression. It was good--not as good as her angry one but still good. But it wasn't good enough for Lou, and finally Debbie rolled her eyes and pulled two cans of tuna out of her coat pockets to place them in Lou's hand. "Why do you have to make a scene?"

"Me?" Lou scoffed as she tossed the cans into the cart. "I'm making the scene." The look Debbie gave her said _obviously_ , and Lou threw up her hands. “We’re getting takeaway. Can't take you fucking anywhere."

"Come on. Let's get the spaghetti." Debbie took the cart. "I'll keep my hands right here...where you can see them."

"Why are you like this?" Lou started down the aisle again. It wasn't the first time she'd asked that question. 

"You really wanna get into that?"

"Nope." Lou shook her head and grabbed a couple of cans of crushed tomatoes off of the shelf. She didn't want to get into that, not there, at least. It wouldn't be the worst thing for Debbie to actually explore her issues, but then Lou would probably have to look at her own. 

Not that she would admit it to Debbie, but Lou found those little things, like the sticky fingers, endearing. The truth was that Debbie was bored. Debbie knew it, Lou knew it.

"Tiffany's is renovating."

"Nope…" Lou shook her head as she pointed Debbie to the next aisle. "Not happening."

"You want it to happen," Debbie said over her.

"I don't. I don't need it to happen." Lou took Debbie's hand and pulled her away, leaving the cart. "Let's go."

"What? No." Debbie twinined her fingers in Lou's but she didn't try to resist leaving the store. They bickered back and forth until they were seated on a subway train, Lou with her elbows resting on her knees and Debbie with her legs crossed. Debbie leaned in to be heard over the noise of the train, her lips brushing against Lou's. "You know what's better than takeout? Diamonds. I'll even steal one of those blue boxes...you'll love it."

Lou couldn't help but chuckle. "You could buy diamonds, you know? With the piles of money from the last time you stole diamonds."

"Yeah…" Debbie leaned back and uncrossed then recrossed her legs. "But that's no fun."

*****

Lou eyed the pool table, squinting at the configuration after Nine Ball's last shot. She leaned forward, lining up hers, cue sliding through her fingers as she said, "Five ball, right corner pocket."

"You sure 'bout that?" Nine Ball said as she leaned against her cue. 

She missed, barely. The five ball stopped just shy of the pocket and hung there as Nine Ball smirked. "How's Debbie?" she asked as she made the shot and two more after it. 

Lou bit the inside of her cheek as she chalked her cue. She could play it coy, but she knew exactly how that would go. Nine Ball would call her on her bullshit, and there was no point in dancing around it anyway. Debbie was living with her--actually living with her, not playing house for a few weeks--but Nine Ball knew as well as Lou did that it would only last as long as Debbie had to keep reporting to the parole officer. 

"Antsy," she said finally. 

Nine Ball shook her head and lined up another shot. "Don't want any part of that."

"You and me both." She sighed. Nine Ball was kicking her ass, which wasn't unusual, but Lou generally put up more of a fight. "Screw it. Let's just drink."

"Okay, but you still lost." She was smirking as she led Lou over to the bar. They slid into stools and placed their orders without preamble. A companionable silence settled between them. Lou liked Nine Ball's place. It was without pretension, and it didn't really matter whether that failed to draw customers or not. Nine Ball could afford it.

“So,” Nine Ball said knowingly before sipping her drink, “what’s the problem?”

“What problem?”

“You here, ain’t you?”

Lou scoffed as she knocked back her beer. She fingered the neck, spinning the half empty bottle around. "Game of pool can’t just be a game of pool?”

“Debbie planning something?”

“She’s always planning something. That’s Debbie.”

Nine Ball shifted in her chair, looking over her dark glasses at Lou. "You guys together or...what?"

"Or what?" Lou had paused, beer midway to her mouth. 

Shrugging, Nine Ball leaned back in her seat. "You should work that shit out."

Figuring that shit out was something Lou had been trying to do for what seemed like the better part of her adult life. The truth was, she had had spent ten years without Debbie's consistent presence, five of those years without it at all. Lou didn't fault Debbie for trying something else. They hadn't been making money, and whether it was that or something else, they hadn't been getting along either. She did, however, fault Debbie for piss-poor judgment where Claude was concerned. 

Lou was the one Debbie came back to. Five years in prison hadn't changed that. And the thing that Lou hated the most about it is that she had been there for Debbie to come back to. She finished her beer in two big gulps and looked through her bangs to Nine Ball. 

"You got anything other than this?" 

Nine Ball raised her eyebrows as she brought an imaginary joint to her lips, and Lou nodded. It wasn't long before they were in Nine Ball's apartment passing a bong back and forth. Lou had done her share of drugs, but in her profession she considered them too much of a liability. The same could be said of alcohol, but everyone had their vices. They were sitting on the floor, and she leaned back against Nine Ball's sofa.

In the silence between them, the bubbling of the bong seemed especially loud. And the whir of Nine Ball's computer or servers or whatever the fuck it was she'd crammed the place with started to seem like music. Lou closed her eyes. She did not let herself think of Debbie. 

"This is good shit," she heard herself say, voice seemingly detached from her own throat. As if Nine Ball would have anything other than good shit. 

The silence could have stretched for hours--she wasn't sure. But Nine Ball broke it with a soft laugh. Lou didn't open her eyes. 

"What?"

"Nothin'."

"Yeah?" Lou cracked her eyes open. Nine Ball was looking at her again, but at some point, she'd taken off her glasses. 

"You don't really wanna know."

"Probably not." Lou shook her head, moving her bangs. It felt like she could sense the movement of each individual hair. She stared forward, then looked at Nine Ball from the corner of her eye. "You ever fucked a girl before?" she asked, smirking. 

"You asking out of curiosity or out of _curiosity_?" Nine Ball said as she blinked slowly. 

"Does it matter?"

Nine Ball turned toward her. "You wanna fuck or not, white girl?"

They didn't even make an attempt at getting on the sofa. Lou took Nine Ball's face in her hands, and she kissed her languidly, feeling as if she were both inside and outside of her own body. Nine Ball grabbed her tie, pulling her even closer. They fumbled with each other's clothing, and Lou couldn't say how they finally reached a state where Nine Ball was topless and halfway out of her mechanic's jumpsuit and Lou in nothing but briefs and her tank and tie. 

Nine Ball flipped them over with dexterity that would have surprised Lou had she not felt the room temporarily spinning, and she realized Nine Ball had pinned her arms above her head by the wrists. She liked the image of Nine Ball smirking above her, chest bare and breasts nothing other than magnificent. Nine Ball began to kiss down her neck, and she sucked each nipple hard, in turn, leaving the fabric of Lou's tank wet.

She moaned without restraint as Nine Ball made her way down her body and began to tease with her mouth over her briefs. Lou lifted her hips as Nine Ball pulled the briefs off. She squirmed at the feel of Nine Ball's mouth on her cunt. Time seemed to both drag and skip and she came and then was coming again as she rocked against Nine Ball's thigh while she finger fucked her.

Finally, they ended up lying side by side on the floor, sweat cooling their skin. Lou wiped her mouth, still tasting both Nine Ball and the weed. 

"Fuck," she breathed, closing her eyes. 

"Yeah," Nine Ball said after a long silence. "You're alright at that."

Lou couldn't help but chuckle.

*****

When she got home, Debbie appeared on the mezzanine and leaned over the balcony, wrinkling her nose.

"Jesus Christ, you smell like someone's grow-op." 

She didn't ask where Lou had been, and Lou knew she wouldn't. They didn't keep tabs--at least, that's how Debbie would term it. When Claude showed up--and there had been other, less disastrous Claudes--Lou let it go. Only that time, Debbie didn't come back. Sometimes Lou had found her way into the bed of a bartender or a blackjack dealer or a waitress making eyes at them both. Whether from some passive aggressive instinct or for sheer pleasure, she always made sure Debbie could taste them on her lips. Debbie might have given a fuck, but Debbie being Debbie never let on regardless. 

"Played some pool." She answered the question Debbie wasn't going to ask. Lou watched her come down the spiral staircase, appreciating the view it offered. 

"Oh, yeah? How is Nine Ball?" Debbie asked as Lou caught her around the waist. Lou kissed her deeply, and Debbie raised her eyebrows as they pulled apart. "I didn't realize you two were that close."

Lou let her go. "Aw, honey, are you jealous?"

Without answering, Debbie went to the kitchen. She took a lemon from the bowl on the table that served as an island and cut spirals of peel before cutting it in half. Then she went about making martinis--gin, extra dry and straight up with a twist. Lou took the glass Debbie offered her and crossed the room to the card table. 

Debbie smirked at her over the rim of her glass. "Did you fuck Daphne too?"

Lou fingered the peel before letting it drop into her drink.. "Ah, no…" She took a sip letting the bouquet of the gin fill her mouth. "Did you?"

"No."

"Then why are we having this conversation?"

"Just wondering how many of our 'gal pals' you've gone through."

"That's what you think I'm doing?" Lou murmured, squinting in amusement.

"Isn't it?" Debbie asked.

Lou bit the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "Would it matter if it was?" She asked before taking another sip.

Debbie shrugged unselfconsciously. She rounded the table and put her drink down before perching on the edge. "Rose wouldn't be that hard. But Amita and Constance…" She paused as she pulled Lou's tie out of her vest and fingered the edge. "I'm not sure sure. And Tammy…"

Lou scoffed, but she couldn't keep the smirk off of her face. "You'd know all about Tammy"

"Yeah." Debbie grinned. "Yeah, I would." She wound the tie around her hand, pulling Lou down closer to her. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

The dark undertones in Debbie's voice brought a pleasant knot of heat to Lou's core, and she licked her lips. "You really want to know?"

"I asked," Debbie said, winding the tie around her palm once more, bringing Lou so close that their lips almost touched, "didn't I?"

“I don’t know.” Lou purses her lips, eyes half lidded. She brushed her lips against Debbie’s as she spoke. “I don’t know how clearly I can remember.”

Debbie let the tie go, standing, and the crack her palm made against Lou’s cheek echoed in the space around them. Lou savored the sting as she put her arms on either side of Debbie and pushed her back onto the table. 

“Mind blowing,” she whispered huskily into Debbie's ear, biting the lobe hard before continuing, “those breasts...mmm.” Debbie gasped, wrapping her legs around Lou, who wished she were wearing a cock. “And her cunt...well, I’m sure you could taste it.” 

Debbie wrapped her arms around Lou and dug her fingernails into the back of her neck. “How many times did you come?”

“Three.” Lou put her knee on the tabletop and pressed her thigh between Debbie's legs as she pushed her back and crawled on top of her, pushing her back onto the green felt. “Maybe four.”

“Maybe?” Debbie pulled her down into a kiss, biting Lou’s bottom lip. It was unspoken, then, that Debbie wanted to come four times, at least. 

Lou ran a hand firmly down Debbie’s torso and pushed it into her pants after undoing the button with her thumb. She pushed Debbie’s panties aside, unsurprised to find her wet, and without preamble, she pushed two fingers inside of her, closing her eyes and sucking in a breath and the warmth of Debbie’s cunt. “How many times did Tammy come, hmm?”

Debbie laughed, arching into Lou’s thrusts. She undid the buttons of Lou’s shirt and tweaked both of her nipples hard “Which time?” She whispered, rising up to Lou’s ear. 

“The train.” Lou held back a moan by sinking her teeth into Debbie’s shoulder, tasting the silk of her shirt.

“Oh, the train.” Debbie panted as Lou pushed in a third finger. “The train where I pushed her against the back wall and shoved my hand up her skirt?”

“Mmhm.” She pressed the heel of her hand against Debbie’s clit and began to suck at the tender skin of her neck. 

“At least twice. One finger…” she moaned softly, arching into Lou. 

“Because she’s a tight little bitch.” Debbie was coming. Lou felt the the spasm around her fingers and heard the hitch in Debbie’s breath. She continued to fuck her. 

“And she took it, eyes closed. Silent,” Debbie managed. She scraped her nails along Lou’s shoulders and kissed her again, biting her lip so hard that they both tasted blood. She came again and Lou pulled her fingers out and shoved them into Debbie’s mouth, giving her no choice but to lick them clean. 

“You bitch.” Lou pulled her hands away and quickly shed her boots, pants, and finally her briefs. She crawled onto the table and pressed her cunt to Debbie’s lips. She was ready. Too ready. And she came too fast. Debbie kissed and bit her thighs, and when Lou collapsed beside her, Debbie was on top of her in an instant. 

“You just can’t keep it in your pants, can you, baby?” Debbie smirked as she shimmied out of her pants. 

“No,” Lou breathed. “No.”

Debbie slapped her again, and Lou moaned. She closed her eyes as she felt Debbie’s cunt against her thigh. It was dripping, slick. She gripped Debbie’s hips, pressing, hoping to leave bruises. Debbie made herself come again, and she kissed up Lou’s stomach, pressing her hands underneath the tank. As she played with Lou’s nipples, Lou squirmed, but Debbie pulled away and wagged her finger. She wasn’t done yet. 

She sat on Lou’s face, and Lou began lapping at her cunt eagerly. She nipped at Debbie’s clit, sucked at it. No woman's taste could match Debbie’s. That salty tang had eluded and haunted Lou for five years, and she lapped as if she’d never taste it again. When Debbie shook with her orgasm and fell beside her, Lou made herself come again with a quick, deft touch. Then they lay in silence, save the sound of their breaths.

*****

The sun was getting low when Lou clattered downstairs in combat boots and a mix of necklaces clinking together at her neck. Debbie sat on the sofa, legs criss-cross with the laptop balanced on top of them. She looked up as Lou grabbed her green blazer and pulled it on.

“Where’s the fire?”

“Going to the bar.”

Debbie closed the laptop. “Why? It’s running itself.”

“I know honest…”

“Mostly honest,” Debbie interrupted. 

“... _mostly honest_ work is a foreign concept to you, but it can actually be quite rewarding.”

Lou was full of shit, and they both knew it. But neither of them liked doing nothing. For Lou it meant boredom, anxiety, and generally reckless decisions. For Debbie it meant planning and more planning, and Debbie's planning led to reckless decisions. Even when those decisions paid of off, Lou didn't like to encourage it. 

While she was surprised when Debbie insisted on coming with her, Lou wasn't surprised when Debbie was bored by nine. Lou found herself behind the bar for a while pouring shots and shaking cocktails. She pickup up three empty beer bottles by their necks with one hand and dropped them into the recycling as she ducked from behind the bar, leaving it to her more than capable staff. She ascended the stairs to her meager, cluttered office and let herself look over the accounts as if she didn't actually have someone else doing them. Still, Lou like to put her hands on things before passing them off to someone else to handle. 

She realized it had been hours since she'd seen Debbie, which could mean anything. Lou left the room and went to look over the dance floor. It only took a few moments for her to pick out Debbie, dark hair falling over her shoulders as she moved around the floor. She looked carefree, beautiful. It was hypnotic. But that was the vision Debbie wanted everyone to see. 

The little knot around Debbie parted when Lou made her way to the dance floor. She put her arms around Debbie from behind, synching the rhythm of their bodies as she whispered into Debbie's ear, "I can't let you give this place a reputation for disappearing pocket contents."

"You never were any fun." Debbie turned in Lou's arms. 

"That's not what you said last night," Lou said, turning Debbie around again. She pressed herself into Debbie's back and held onto her hips, swaying them into a darker part of the dance floor. Lou brushed Debbie's hair aside with her nose and began to kiss her neck softly. 

Lou let her hands slide down Debbie's hips, over the tight fabric of her black dress. Debbie said something, but the words were lost to the music and the rush of blood in Lou's ears. No, she didn't want Debbie stealing her customers' cards and cash, but more than that, she just wanted Debbie. As they danced in a shadow, Lou's hand cupping Debbie's pussy through the dress, everything else fell away. 

She turned Debbie again in her arms and kissed her eagerly, hungrily, tasting the gum Debbie had undoubtedly swallowed. Lou backed Debbie against a wall and kissed her again, biting her lower lip. Debbie's eyes flashed as she braced herself. She would hardly be the first woman Lou had finger fucked on a dark dance floor, but those had been moments that led to a night or sometimes two. This was Debbie, and Lou wanted to mark her, to devour her whole. She pushed Debbie's panties aside and slid two fingers into her, thrusting hard and curling them as she slowly pulled them out. 

"Fuck," Debbie said soundlessly, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. 

"Look at me," Lou growled into her ear. "Look me in the eyes."

Debbie did. She opened her eyes and stared, and Lou's pussy throbbed with her own desire. She pressed her thumb to Debbie's clit, circling it as she fucked her, and when Debbie came, she swallowed the sound, eyes wide. Lou brought her fingers to Debbie's lips and closed her own eyes as she pushed them into Debbie's mouth. She licked her lips. 

"Get those cards back where they belong," she said before kissing Debbie again and pushing away from the wall.

*****

Debbie twirled the hard hat on its edges between her palms as they walked through the warehouse. She was slightly behind Tammy, but it didn’t surprise her when Tammy turned, took the hat from her hands, and plonked it securely on her head. Then Tammy followed up with a glare that suggested she knew Debbie was about to say “thanks mom,” so Debbie didn’t.

“You’re parole’s almost over,” Tammy said matter of factly. 

“Yep.” Debbie looked up a sky high stack of toaster ovens. 

“And?”

Debbie shrugged. “We could do Vegas.”

“Didn’t your brother already do Vegas?”

“We could do better.”

Finally, Tammy stopped walking and turned to her. She had a politely concerned look on her face. Or that might have just been her face, Debbie admitted to herself. Politely concerned did a lot for Tammy. 

“You’re not here because of Vegas, Debbie.”

“What? I can’t just come see your operation?”

“Is it the sex?” Tammy tilted her head like a therapist. It was infuriating. 

“Jesus, Tammy.” Debbie took off the hardhat and ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s not the sex.”

"I see." She started walking again. "Then I guess it's your longstanding fear of commitment." 

Debbie smirked as she followed. "Not everyone wants to settle down in the suburbs and have a few kids. It's a great cover though."

"I resent that, Debbie."

"No you don't." Debbie gained on her and routed her down a tightly packed aisle of pallets full of boxes. She enjoyed the look of exasperation on Tammy's face and the high color in her cheeks. She cornered Tammy at the end and got close enough that their noses nearly touched. "How about your sex life?" Debbie asked as she put both her arms up, bracing herself on the stack of boxes behind Tammy. 

Tammy sighed. "We're not doing this."

"Tell me you don't want to," Debbie murmured as she kissed her. 

Tammy returned the kiss but in a way that was almost polite before she ducked under Debbie's arms. "I don't want to be the way you dodge your feelings, no."

Debbie sighed and leaned against the boxes. She wasn't going to verbally admit Tammy was right. In fact, she decided she wasn't going to admit it at all. Instead, she shook her head, chalked it up to Tammy continuing to be an uptight bitch--despite the proof to the contrary in past experience--and decided to just go back to Lou's place.

*****

Lou stood by a pile of broken down boxes when Debbie came through the door. She looked up as she stepped on the last piece, pressing it down flat for recycling. Debbie raised her eyebrows, but Lou merely gave her a half smile and a wink.

"Got you a present." 

"We starting a recycling plant scam?" Debbie asked, eyeing the stack. 

"You know I prefer my gifts to be products of legitimate commerce." Lou wiped her hands on her jeans and went to Debbie, taking her into her arms. "Wanna go upstairs?"

Debbie kissed her and pulled away smiling. "Depends on whether I'm gonna to get my present there or not."

Lou took her by the hand and led her up the staircase, into what had become their bedroom. In place of what had been a glorified queen mattress on a platform of cinder blocks and plywood artfully covered in fabric and pillows was a full fledged canopy bed. 

"You got me a bed?" Debbie crossed her arms. 

"Not," Lou began as she wrapped her arms around Debbie from behind and started to kiss her neck, "just any bed." It was a mix of carefully crafted metal and reclaimed wood. But as Debbie pulled away to take a closer look, Lou pulled her back and started to unbutton her blouse. 

"Baby, what kind of girl do you think I am?"

Smirking, Lou pushed Debbie's shirt off and undid her bra. "The kind I like to see naked." When Debbie went to unbutton Lou's jeans, Lou pushed her hands away and continued to undress her. 

When Debbie was naked save for her earrings, Lou pushed her back to the bed, kissing her most of the way. They both tumbled down onto the crisp comforter. Lou straddled Debbie and deftly restrained her with cuffs and tethers well hidden in the bed frame. Understanding lit Debbie's face. 

"Custom?"

"Mmhm," Lou intoned. She slid off of Debbie and took a moment to appreciate the view from the foot of the bed before restraining Debbie's ankles too. The look on Debbie's face was one of thoughtful amusement. "Be right back."

When Lou returned, naked save for the dark green dildo and matching harness, Debbie raised her eyebrows. 

Lou smirked. "You're not the only one with big dick energy, honey."

New toys and Lou wearing the cock for once were only novel for so long. They fucked. They stained the coverlet with sweat. Lou held Debbie's head as she sucked her own juices off of the dildo. And by the time the yellow light of late afternoon filtered through the dirty windows, they both lay sprawling and spent. 

Lou closed her eyes and thought back to when they first met. She was dealing blackjack in a third rate casino in Atlantic city where the cameras had been installed before she was born and had stopped working by the time she got her hands on a deck. The Wednesday night pit boss was almost always just south of functionally drunk, and why not--it was Wednesday after all. 

The minute Debbie walked in, Lou noticed her, first because she hadn't gotten laid in weeks and second because the way Debbie casually surveyed the room was a little too casual. As she dealt her hands, Lou watched Debbie at the next table over. She recognized the con--pretty young girl doesn't know how to play cards all that well. It worked on both dealers and patrons to varying degrees, but men of a certain age were less likely to see it for what it was: a distraction. 

For what she'd lacked in subtlety when she first came in, Debbie made up for it in charm. After a few hands, Lou caught her eye and flicked her gaze to the pit boss. She doubted he could spot a card counter if he was sitting right by her--maybe sober but not just then--but Debbie didn't know that. Lou inclined her head slightly to her own table. She waited, watching nonchalantly and dealing hands to the old lady and wanna-be gangster in two of her seats. Debbie feigned taking a break, not pushing her luck. She took her time about getting a spritzer, and when the table she'd been at filled up, she made her way to Lou. 

"What gorgeous earrings," Lou said as she dealt her in. She leaned close. "Are they vintage? You know I think my grandmother had a pair…" As she feigned examining the jewelry she murmured, "Keep doing that and you're going to get caught. Stay here, be smart. I take half or I rat you out. My shift ends at midnight."

A look of understanding passed between them and the night wore on, with Debbie pretending to get tipsy on the wine and beginner's luck. Lou cashed out at midnight and made her way to the alley behind the casino. She lit a cigarette and waited, bracing herself against the brick wall with one foot. Half an hour or so later, Debbie appeared.

Lou had just lit a fresh cigarette, and she let Debbie take it out of her mouth to take a drag. 

"How'd you know?"

Even though Lou already knew she wasn't a bimbo, Shepard been surprised by the drop in Debbie's voice. She shrugged, took back the cigarette and asked it thoughtfully. "A con knows a con."

"Yeah, well, that's your cut," Debbie said, handing her a roll of cash. 

Lou stuffed it in her pocket. "No it's not, but I'll let it slide this time."

A chuckle. "Debbie."

Lou handed her the cigarette. "Lou."

Twenty minutes later and they were still there, only Lou had her hand up Debbie's skirt. And the rest was history. She'd fallen asleep thinking about that night, and when she woke, it was dark out. She could smell Chinese food from downstairs and hear David Bowie filtering up from the turntable. By the time she made her way downstairs, Debbie was opening containers of steaming food. Her legs were bare under one of Lou's button-ups, and Lou wondered what the delivery guy had thought about that. 

"You're up."

"Yeah, well no one likes cold pork fried rice," Lou said as she pulled out a chair.

They began to eat in silence, the music filling the space between them. When the record stopped, neither of them got up to put something else on. There was a tension that had been building, a tension that they both studiously ignored. But Lou decided that it was time someone was the adult, and it clearly had to be her.

"How long until your parole is up."

"Six hours. Give or take." Debbie poke at a dumpling with her chopsticks. 

"Give or take," Lou repeated, as if Debbie didn't have it timed down to the second. She pushed her carton of fried rice away and started to fiddle with the wrapper of a fortune cookie. "We could go on a trip. Europe or…" She shrugged. 

"Yeah."

Lou scoffed, shaking her head. "Jesus, Debbie, really?"

"What?" Debbie finally looked up at her, chopsticks paused midway to her mouth with a dripping dumpling.. "What?" she said, harder this time. 

"You can't even pretend to commit, can you?" 

Debbie's response was a stare with a barely perceptible shrug, and that made Lou even more inclined than she had been to flip the table. Instead, she closed her eyes tightly and bit the inside of her cheek. This was Debbie. Debbie who didn't talk about her feelings. Debbie who planned obsessively down to the minute but couldn't commit her feelings past a mere moment. Lou didn't know why, after so long, she had expected anything different. 

"I love you, you know." Lou opened her eyes. "I love you. There, I've said it." And now that she had, she felt empty, as if the words had been filling a void that Debbie couldn't, wouldn't. 

"For fuck's sake, Lou." Debbie's voice was quiet, but it took a hard edge. 

Lou stood suddenly, chair scraping the worn planks of the floor. "I don't know why the fuck I do this."

"Then don't do it." Debbie went back to her dumplings. "I never asked…"

"You never _ask_ for anything." Lou put her hands on her hips and looked up to the ceiling in exasperation, desperation. Now that the tension had come to a head, she felt it break open and all of her energy drain from her. "I can't keep living like this, waiting for you to decide there's something to keep you beyond the next job."

Silence fell between them again, and this time it was too full for Lou to bear. She thought about going back upstairs, letting herself sleep it off. If she faced Debbie much longer, she felt like she would cumple in on herself, implode. Instead, she grabbed her keys and headed to the bar. It would be closing, just the crew cleaning up, probably finished by the time she got there. She ended up falling asleep on the sofa in the stock room. 

When a cramp in her side woke her, she felt dazed and disoriented. The inside of the club was grey, and when she stepped out of the emergency exit, it was well past dawn. Lou looked down at her phone. Nothing. She drew in a deep breath of the morning air and slumped back against the door frame. When she went home, she knew Debbie wouldn't be there. It wouldn't be the first time, but she told herself this time she wouldn't wait.

*****

Daphne felt her heart absolutely leap out of her chest, and she bit back her yelp so that it came out sounding like a strangled cat. She realized before she actually yelled for security that the figure sitting at the dinette table in her trailer was Debbie Ocean. Getting herself together, Daphne pulled the trailer door shut and crossed her arms

“Debbie. I’d ask how you got in here, but what’s the point?”

“It’s good to see you too, Daphne.” 

“Why are you here.” Daphne slid into the bench seat next to Debbie and whispered conspiratorially, “Do you need me for a job.”

Debbie chuckled. “No.” She leaned back, smirking. “I was just in the neighborhood. Thought I’d come say hello.”

“Oh.” Daphne had to admit that she was disappointed, directing, producing, even a writing credit here and there… It had its allure, but it wasn’t nearly as exciting as, well, theft. She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “Where’s Lou?”

Debbie shrugged as if to ask how she should know. 

At that, Daphne screwed up her face, exaggerating her confusion. “Isn’t she, like, your wife?”

“Excuse me?” Debbie raised her eyebrows. 

“Girlfriend? Partner.” 

Ten minutes later, Debbie had her head between Daphne’s legs. She’d lost a bet with Lou because Daphne was not, in fact, completely waxed. And how the fuck Lou could tell something like that from just looking at a woman, Debbie could never tell. But she was there because she didn’t want to think about Lou. Or did she? 

Vegas hadn’t been the same without her. And even though Lou hated L. A., it wasn’t the same without her complaints. And it wasn’t that Debbie didn’t want her there. It was that she did. And that’s what she had to run from. She looked down, Daphne’s head between her legs now. Debbie had completely spaced out, but she smirked as she rubbed off the last of Daphne’s lipstick off of her her lips with her thumb.

“Hey!” Daphne’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “Am I that bad at this because I haven’t ever had any complaints yet. Okay, that's...actually a lie." Daphne wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and slipped onto the bench next to Debbie. "I've never done this before. Did I suck?" Her voice was needling. "I sucked, didn't I?"

"Shit, Daphne." Debbie shifted, pulling up her pants. "You could have said something." Another bet lost to Lou, but what was left of her conscience wouldn't let her dwell on it. 

"No, no, it's not like that." Daphne's eyes were huge. "I mean, I wanted to. Look at you. You're so smart and, well, hot. I mean, I'm flattered."

"We can be friends without fucking, you know." Debbie said.

"I get that. I do."

Debbie put her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. "Do you? Because your track record of choices in the name of 'friendship' hasn't been that great so far."

"You're one to talk about great choices." Daphne grinned, and Debbie couldn't help but return it. "Seriously, though, why are you here?"

"I'm…" Debbie pushed her hair back. "Looking for a ghost."

"Is this about your dead brother...because _boring_."

Debbie laughed as she rolled her eyes. "You really wonder why you don't have friends? Okay. I should go."

"Hey, wait." Daphne caught her wrist as Debbie stood. "Meet me for a drink tonight. Come on...you can teach me to do that thing you did with your fingers."

"I'm not going to be your lesbian sex coach."

Daphne pouted. "Please. You know you want to…"

"Jesus," Debbie said as she shook her head, smiling, "you are a piece of work."

And yet, there she was, planning to stay. Danny was dead, really dead--or at least, he'd faked it so convincingly even she couldn't find him. And Lou wanted her to...what? Settle down, help run the bar. Years upon years of scams, of planning, of reading each other's minds, and Debbie hadn't anticipated that because she hadn't let herself. So, she was on a futile search as a shitty cover for running away from having _feelings_ about something she couldn't admit she wanted.

*****

Debbie rushed into the ICU ward, her long jacket draped over her arm. She scanned the glass walled units for numbers, looking for the one she'd been told, but she caught sight of Tammy first. She sat perched on a chair beside the hospital bed, her reading glasses on her nose as she read aloud from the pages of a thick paperback. Debbie watched for a moment, focusing on Tammy's mouth moving rather than letting herself look at Lou lying in the bed.

Finally, she tapped on the glass door. Tammy glanced up, looking over the frames before standing quickly. She took off the glasses and folded them, laying them aside with the book before coming outside. Tammy slid the door open and closed it shut behind her. Debbie noted the dark circles under her eyes. 

"Where have you been?" Tammy whispered. The floor wasn't exactly quiet. Machine's constantly whirred and beeped, and there was a low level of chatter from the nurse's station. But the hushed tone seemed appropriate. 

Debbie blinked and ignored the question. "What the hell happened? Got a flight as soon as I saw your text." It had been, at least, the tenth text. And there had been voicemails too. But Debbie hadn't bothered to listen to them. The texts said Lou was in ICU, so she came as soon as she could. 

"Some asshole in a truck ran a light. Thank god she wears a helmet." Concern creased Tammy's forehead as she looked back over her shoulder to Lou. "She's in a coma."

"What the fuck, Tammy!"

Tammy's eyes darted around as she shushed Debbie quickly. "It's medically induced. So she can heal." She crossed her arms. "She was very lucky."

"Why didn't anyone call me sooner?"

"Lou didn't list you as her emergency contact." 

Tammy's tone suggested that Debbie should know better. And Debbie supposed she couldn't fault Lou for planning on her not being there when it mattered most. That hurt, but it was a dull twang deep within her. Debbie took a deep breath, but Tammy wasn't done. 

"Are you planning to be here when she wakes up?"

"What kind of question is that?" Debbie asked, but Tammy's response was a very pointed look. The silence stretched a beat longer than was comfortable. 

Finally, Tammy said. "You're an idiot."

Debbie was too tired to argue. All at once the long flight, the martinis, the entire, idiotic trip crashed in on her on top of the nail biting worry that had been building in her gut ever since she found her phone buried underneath Daphne's sofa cushions. She wanted to sag into Tammy's arms. She wanted to cry. Instead, she blinked until her eyes were no longer threatening tears. 

"You should go home."

"Debbie…"

Debbie sighed and put a hand on Tammy's arm. "Go home. See your family. Get some sleep." A small smile played on her face. "She's probably sick of that bored housewife shit you've been reading to her."

"Not necessarily what I'd call Jane Austen…" Tammy rolled her eyes but she was smiling. 

"Go." She squeezed Tammy's arm briefly before going up to the glass. She was there, and she shouldn't have left in the first place.

*****

Lou didn't have to open her eyes to know she wasn't alone. She felt like shit. She felt like her entire body had been hit by a bus--which it nearly had--but she knew she wasn't the only person in the room. She licked her lips, and when her voice came out, it sounded like a thin croak that belonged to someone else.

"You better not be sitting at my bedside weeping because that's too fucking cliched."

"It's good to see you too, baby." Debbie stood up and offered a huge mug of water with a bendy straw. Lou's first instinct was to wave it away, but her arms seemed like they were made of concrete. 

Lou closed her eyes. "Tammy called you."

"You could have called me, you know." Debbie sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. 

"You could have been less of a twat and stayed." She opened her eyes again and looked up, meeting Debbie's. Lou was afraid the second she really looked at Debbie, it would be like every other time. Things would go back to what passed as normal for them, and the cycle would start again. She couldn't do it. Debbie didn't want to do anything else. And aside from the accident that put Lou there, they were nearly right back where they'd started the last time. 

"Is this really what you want to do right now?" Debbie's voice was soft. 

"I want to go back to sleep and wake up without road rash or metal pins holding me together. But you're here, and I've already told you that I can't keep doing this. I need a partner, Debbie." She swallowed, throat feeling like sand. "Not for a job or a few jobs or mind blowing sex for months before you disappear."

She felt Debbie carefully take her hand. "I fucked Daphne." Lou was about to protest, but Debbie put a finger to Lou's lips. "I fucked Daphne, and all I could think about was you. Not telling you about it. Not fucking you while I told you about it. But just...you."

"Is that an apology?"

"You're what I want, baby." Debbie bent and kissed her softly. "And it's always scared the shit out of me."

*****

When Lou finally got back home, it was on crutches. The first thing she did upon walking inside was mentally thank herself for hiring a cleaning service. She hobbled her way to the sofa and sank down gingerly. It wasn't the first time she'd been on crutches--though it was the first time it'd been legitimate. As she looked at the winding staircase, she groaned.

"So much for sleeping in my own bed."

Debbie dumped their things unceremoniously--she'd never been meticulous in anything outside of a job--and came over to her. She helped Lou settle herself by putting pillows underneath the leg that was in a cast. 

"Don't worry," Debbie said as she leaned down for a kiss, "I can still tie you to the sofa."

Lou grinned. She kissed Debbie hungrily, daring to let herself hope this time it was for real.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr @miricleo. Thanks for reading!


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